


king of infinite space

by Amber



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Do Not Archive, Fluff, Loss of Humanity, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Post-MAG160, Trans Elias Bouchard, no redemption we live like monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:20:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22630930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber/pseuds/Amber
Summary: Sometimes he thinks Elias might be scared of him, just a litte.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 7
Kudos: 137
Collections: The Magnus Archives Rare Pairs 2020





	king of infinite space

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trashpossum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashpossum/gifts).



> Title is from Hamlet.
> 
> Character death warning is only for the implication that most other main characters in the canon have died offscreen.

How can he tell when he is awake and when he is dreaming? He slides from one to the other so easily, falls into the Eye and wakes and looks up at the Eye, walks through horrors he invited into the world and when the victims reach out their hands in supplication he looks back at them unflinchingly because hasn't he tried? Hasn't he tried for years now, every night for years, to save them from the black pit and the blood rain and the fork on a blackboard screetching and the terrible places where there's nothing but falling or darkness or worse, the places where there's not even nothing and he becomes dead, he's a dead man walking.

The only anchors he has to the real world are those who cannot appear in his dreams and of those only Elias remains—

Jonah, more accurately, but, "Do call me Elias, Jon," he'd said as he wiped blood from Jon's upper lip with awful tenderness. "I'm somewhat more used to it."

The Panopticon is a holy place. Jon was drawn back here slowly but surely. At first he had tried to stay with Martin beneath the watchful Eye, he really had. They'd called Basira a few times before the phones stopped working, they'd built up the safehouse. Then Jon had said, perhaps it would be safer to remain on the move, and then, perhaps there's something that could help us at the Institute.

It hadn't taken much. He'd caused a bloody apocalypse and Martin was still overeager to do as he said.

He tries not to think too much about Martin.

In the here and now he has Elias, and that's how he knows he is awake. Rolls over in the bed and sees the pale slope of a shoulder, the sharp edges of a stolen body. Jon shifts closer to the warmth of it, and it's not new, sharing a bed but he's still a little awkward as he slips an arm over the dip of Elias' waist. The bed creaks. Elias shifts back into him with a soft hum. 

He's so delicate, really, Jon has discovered. A vulnerable man who has built up barbed defenses around himself out of simple vicious fear. Jon could snap his neck right now, that swan-elegant neck still a little bruised from adoring teeth and suck. Jon could so easily snap his neck.

But then what? Go on alone in this waking nightmare? There isn't an end to this apocalypse. The entities keep themselves somewhat in check, lest they destroy their food source in their own greed to devour it. That's about the best anyone can get. Perhaps the terror of humanity's demise will truly feed the Extinction enough that it will rise up and put the whole damn planet out of its misery, but until then— he's out of options. 

"And you love me," Elias says sleepily, turning over in his arms to snuggle in closer, one foot scraping down Jon's calf beneath the blankets.

And he loves him. That too.

Jon kisses his forehead, eyes squeezed shut like he's holding back tears, though he hasn't actually cried in a long time and will not now. What he's holding back is something darker, something Elias has slowly coaxed from him. It was always there, is the thing. Before the Watcher's Crown, before the Institute, before any sort of trauma with spiders. Elias once said Jon had been chosen randomly, but he was wrong—nobody else could have brought them both this far. It was always there, in him. A dark hunger.

Elias is awake enough now to run fingers through his hair soothingly, pull him into a slow kiss, rolling further atop him. Physical comfort goes a long way with Jon, who has spent his life so touch hungry. As does praise: "Perfect darling," Elias murmurs into his jaw and Jon warms through.

"I need another one," he softens enough to admit, even though his own monstrousness still lances terror down his spine. Still, it's a necessary balance. For them to be here together in this holy place, Jon needs diverse input. Elias cherishes him so sweetly and so well, loves him in his entirity in a way he's never had before, but a child who won't read the same book twice, he needs other stories to diversify this one. 

Sometimes he thinks Elias might be scared of him, just a litte. Scared that one day his Archivist, his Archive, won't find the panopticon's bounty enough and will go back out hunting. Scared that one day the hunger for unique experiences will trump whatever love Jon feels, and he'll decide to truly discover how badly this borrowed body can break.

"I'm a lot more resilient than Martin was," Elias points out, straddling his hips and placing hands on Jon's chest, the space between them yawning open their coccoon. 

"Mm," hums Jon, watching him. "But are you resilient enough?"


End file.
